


Easy's Angel

by UltimateOptimist



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, POV Eugene Roe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-11
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:01:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22215976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltimateOptimist/pseuds/UltimateOptimist
Summary: Just some snapshots from the series where Doc Roe looks after his men, and a reversal where they look after him.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 42





	1. Episode 6 - Bastogne

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, I have the upmost respect for the men of Easy. I mean no disrespect to the real men these snapshots are based on the HBO series of which I am currently re-watching.

God it’s cold. That’s all Eugene can think about as he trudges through the snow. He needs to find the OP, or another company, someone who can help him find some supplies to feed his desperately dwindling supplies. He’s tried this before, but now he is getting more desperate. He has to find some supplies somewhere. 

So many shouts for a medic, so little time to react. He is so lost in his thoughts he doesn’t spot the Kraut until its too late. By the time he registers who much trouble he is in he’s rescued by the ever-calm Dick Winters. 

“Doc, Doc,” He hisses ushering him to the side. Eugene barely listens to a word said until he is told to head up the line. Desperate to make himself useful, he finds himself nodding to find more supplies to help his men. He sets out not really sure where he is going….

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Doc?” “Doc?” “Doc?” “MEDIC!” “MEDIC!” “MEDIC!”  
The words echo around in Eugene’s head - Its relentless. It’s all he has heard since they dug in along the line. He’s exhausted which makes him ache to his bones. The cold is even worse, invading all his layers down to his bones. He hasn’t really been sleeping, which he knows is bad but he feels constantly on guard – ready for the dreaded shout. But at least when he gets a shout he is making himself useful, he isn’t tied under the foreboding dread that something is going to happen. 

“Glorious day hey doc?” Luz smiles as he approaches the medic. 

Eugene smirks at that, there is something about the funnyman which makes him extremely uplifting to be around. 

“You take care of yourself ok?” Luz slaps something into his hand – it’s chocolate. His favourite. It takes the Cajun a few minutes to register what it is, and that its for him. But it makes him feel lighter all the same

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dick tries really hard not to make it obvious that he is watching the young medic when Strayer is giving his speech. The strain the Cajun has been under has not gone unnoticed in the weeks of Bastogne. Dick appreciates all of his men are under pressure, but he also appreciates that the relentless shelling, injuries and killing of his men are particularly wearing for the young man sitting in front of him, eyes blank. He looks to his left, and as always Lew is right in sync with him, he nods as if to acknowledge the silent concern.

“He needs a break Nix” Winters sighs as the pair walk back to the OP. 

Nix can’t help but snort, of course the red-head is right…but a break in Bastogne? For a medic?

“I know” Dick replies flatly – he is aware of how futile the thought is. 

“The men will look out for him,” Nix reassures his friend, a reassuring hand on his shoulder. As if on cue he spies Babe handing over a canteen to the medic who is yet to move. The sight gives Dick some warmth, and much needed hope. It doesn’t do much to ease the anxiety in his stomach. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Dick really steps in after lieutenant Welsh gets hurt. His hands are shaking a little himself after his friend gets hurt. That’s when he can really emphasise what the doc is going through. What scares him even more then that, is the haunted look and hesitation on the medic’s face as he stood and watched the scene in front of him. Of course, he gave excellent care as always but its un-nerving to watch. He goes off to find the dark-haired man. 

Eugene is sitting in his fox hole, dutifully going through his medic bag. Even in the dim moonlight Winters can see how his hand are shaking gently. 

“Eugene?” Dick decides to use his first name.

Eugene startles a little, “Sir?” His voice low, and Winters can hear the exhaustion in it. The medic’s eyes are alert, and Dick internally kicks himself – of course the medic thinks something is wrong. So wrong he is already on his feet and out of his foxhole before Dick can even process the move.

“Everything is ok…. How is Lieutenant Walsh?” The red-head asks. The medic instantly relaxes, well as much as he relaxes.

“He’ll be ok Sir.” He answers back shortly, not wanting to think about the collapsed hospital that they had took him back to, luckily the road had cleared and Harry will be sent to a different hospital.

Winters nods. He hesitates, not sure how to ask if the Cajun is ok. Come to think of it, how often does anyone check in on the other man.

“Eugene…..” Dick starts. 

“He had to go to the next aid station….Bastogne’s…..was hit” Eugene forces the words out around the tight lump in his throat. He tries not to think about all that loss, about a blonde nurse with a smile that brightened his bleak day. He tries not think about all those inside. 

Dick shudders at the news. 

“They will need medics to help there,” he offers knowing the answer will be.

“I’m not leaving the line.” Eugene states firmly, fire in his eyes. He isn’t sure how he feels at the suggestion – does Winters think he is not doing his job? 

It says a lot about both men, about the bond the pair share that Dick holds his hands up in slight surrender. He decides to say what has been on his mind for the past few days, feeling uncharacteristically unsure of himself. 

“Eugene, your job is the toughest in the company and this is the toughest place to do it. You and Spina have no aid station, very little supplies. I am not questioning your job, you are an excellent medic. You are one of the most dedicated men I have ever met, but a few days off the line might help…..ease the strain.” Dick states. 

Eugene takes a minute to try and formulate a response. He doesn’t want to leave the men, he can’t leave because being a medic is all he knows now, it’s all he’s done since they moment he landed at Tocca. 

“I’m not leaving the man. I can’t….” His voice cracks a little a this and he covers with a cough. He can’t show weakness, he can’t crumble. 

Dick senses his need to be alone again, needs his need for solitude - to try and process the evening, and the conversation.

“Ok” he states reassuringly, giving the medic’s arm a squeeze. “Try and get some rest” 

Eugene blows out a breath, unsure of how to process the last few minutes of conversation.


	2. Episode 8 The Last Patrol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Coming off the line doesn't make Eugene's job easier.  
> Luckily he has Edward Heffron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the kudos, bookmarks and comments.   
> I will stress again this is about the characters on the HBO series and in no way means any disrespect to the real men of Easy and their heroism. 
> 
> These one-shots are not in series order obviously but I will try and write 10....I have 3 written so far.....

Easy’s medic grimaced as he heard a painful, coarse cough echo throughout the church. Not that coughing was an unusual sound, not since the siege of Bastogne, and Foy most of the men had a cough to some degree. This was different however, it sounds almost like a wheeze and Roe’s own chest ached at the sound. 

The half-Cajun diverted his eyes from where they were focused on readjusting Perconte’s dressings and tries to work out who it belongs too. He can’t help the tired sigh which escapes him, he was needed again, and he only had one pair of hands. Spina had gone to help at the aid station with a few of the more wounded men. 

“Go on Doc, I’ll be alright” The Italian states, as if ready the medic’s tired mind, breaking the peaceful silence between the pair. He looks down at the wounded man, who gives him a small and strained smile. The dark haired man nods, looking to Sergeant Martin – who hasn’t left his friends side since they entered the church – he’ll look after him. 

Forcing himself up on heavy legs the medic exhales and decides to take a walk along the men to see if he can source the noise. It doesn’t take him long. He spies a very pale and exhausted looking Carwood Lipton sitting in the second row from the front, Captain Speirs of all people, right beside him. The man is coughing into his fist, the sound hoarse and barking. 

“That don’t sound so good Lip,” The Cajun states as he approaches, instinctively reaching a hand out to press against the ailing man’s forehead. 

“I’m ok Doc,” he replies hoarsely, instantly trying to move his head away from his touch. 

“Sure you are, you need ta wrap up warm as you can, take it easy” The Cajun sighs, knowing that both are almost impossible here. Lipton’s eyebrows raise silently, as if echoing his thoughts. Speirs watches the exchange silently – despite being the company’s XO the captain has had very little to do with their medic. Of course, Eugene Roe’s reputation proceeds him – he is one of the best, and dedicated to his men. Speirs doesn’t need to know much more. 

“I’ve got nothing to give ya Lip” The raven-haired adds, and apologetic note in his voice. Lipton opens his mouth, wanting to say something to console the other man – it really isn’t the medic’s fault he has nothing to give him.   
“I just….need you to try” Doc sighs rubbing at his eyebrow. 

Lipton nods, as if sensing the strain the medic is under, how much he needs them to at least try and be ok.   
“I’ll make sure of it” Speirs nods firmly, feeling the need to step in as he hears the sheer exhaustion and resignation in the younger man’s voice. He might have a reputation of being a tough SOB, but he is human, and respects the effort Roe has always exerted to ensure all the men are looked after. 

“Sure thing Doc.” Lip also replies, his voice barely there. Eugene nods and slopes away, trusting the older man to at least try and look after himself. 

He doesn’t notice a certain red-head watching the exchange.   
XXXXXXXXXXX

Eugene Roe is exhausted. He’s pleased to be in Hagneau, out of foxholes and the snow but the job continues. Again and again he is summoned, but rather then the call of medic he gets a knock on his door, usually by a very breathless trooper. Not that he sleeps much anyways – the calls that echoed around Bastogne are a constant soundtrack to his dreams. Sometimes he wakes up convinced he is needed somewhere in the vast snowfall. He thought moving off the line might give him a break from the all the death, but it feels like there is just as many injuries and casualties here then in Bastogne and Foy. 

It’s morning now, and the medic has barely slept – a sniper had shot a replacement in platoon 3 during a late night patrol. He then got caught up helping an A company medic on his way back. His hands tremble as he thinks of the young replacement’s lifeless eyes staring up at him. He doesn’t think he will ever get used to that. He is sitting on his bed, trying to summon the energy and determination to venture outside. 

His thoughts are interrupted by a knock on his door. Unlike the other men, he had his own room. He knew it was the other men who had decided it, respectful of the man’s tendency for his own space. It touched him really, that these men valued that so much that they would willingly cram themselves into the remaining room. It takes him several minutes for his tired brain to catch up to the situation, and there’s a definite pause before he shouts “Come in” 

His stomach is in his boots – he isn’t sure he can deal with another one. 

“Hey Doc,” Its Babe on the other door.

“What’s wrong?” He is on his feet instantly. “Lip ok?” 

Babe chuckles, “Relax Doc, he is fine. You on the other hand, need breakfast. Joe is serving down in OP 2.” 

Eugene relaxes instantly and nods. 

XXXXXXXXXXX

Eugene is sitting in headquarters, ready and waiting to be summoned. He hopes he isn’t, but the late night patrol is risky, and his heart is pounding with adrenaline as he waits. Some of the other men are around – Lipton is valiantly trying to stay awake despite his ongoing fever. Luz is sorting through supplies, despite the lateness of the hour – apparently as restless as the rest of them. The three sit in silence which in itself is odd with Luz around. Roe was going to wait in his room, until he realised that the OP is closer to the basement the men will be coming back to. 

His thoughts are interrupted as McClung runs through the door “It’s Jackson” he states breathlessly. 

Roe’s heart sinks but he jumps into action. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

After Eugene Jackson takes his last breath the basement falls eerily silent. Eugene swallows back the guilt of loosing yet another man, and slips the privates’s dogs tags off. He looks up and finds his eyes drawn to Babe.   
Babe is staring at home with disbelief in his eyes. The grief in his eyes is overwhelming and the Cajun has to look away closing his eyes briefly with a sigh. He’s startled back into action with the movement of Sergeant Martin who covers the young private with a blanket. The medic nods at the stretcher bearers to take him to the aid station. He briefly makes eye contact with Martin, nods and leaves wordlessly. 

The fresh air does little to help him breathe deeply. Another one dead. Another man with his life ahead of him, who survived living on the line, died on a patrol instead. It feels so unjust, so unfair. His hands shake a little as he lights a cigarette. So lost in his own world he doesn’t hear the set of footsteps behind him. 

Its Babe, of course it is. The younger man stands back, silently, no longer hesitant to approach the medic. They’re friends of sorts, well as friends as Eugene becomes with anyone. Since Bastogne Heffron has made more of an effort to look out for the selfless medic, make sure he eats, and tries to rest. Truth be told Heffron doesn’t know how useful he is being, but Eugene has been eating more lately, and looks a little more rested since he started to prompt him. Silently he stands, and when the medic slides down the wall of the house they’re standing outside of, hands still shaking he sits right next to him. Purposefully he sits close enough so just their shoulders touch – hoping to ground the medic.

“Fuck Heffron” Eugene sighs, slipping back into his formal name. It’s a habit the man hasn’t quite got out of, especially when a little shaken. Edward doesn’t mind, because once upon a time Eugene wouldn’t let anyone see him like this, trembling with guilt, sadness and the aftermath of sheer adrenaline. Hell even now Babe realises that he is one of a selected few, maybe the only one. 

So the pair sit, and smoke, trying to forget about hollow eyes and dark basements.


	3. Episode 9 - Landsberg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just Lipton looking after our Medic, with Eugene trying to help everyone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all thanks so much for all the lovely comments and kudos 
> 
> Secondly apologies for such a long wait - I'm a health worker for the NHS in the UK so as you can imagine its all a little crazy here as it is for everyone world wide - I hope you are all keeping safe. 
> 
> Thirdly as always I never mean any disrespect to the real men of Easy - I have read several of their books and will never have enough respect from all they went through.

Landsberg feels like a dream, a nightmare. How can this place be real? How can people do this to other people? How can people survive anything like this? Yet people are, they’re weak and near starvation but they’re walking, speaking. 

Lipton tries to remind himself of that as he walks among the camp, trying to offer any help he can. The shock, disgust, heartbreak is written across all the men in Easy, These men, and what they have been through is truly gut-wrenching, and Lipton can’t quite clarify what he is feeling. All he know is he just wants to help. How can any human do this to another? 

The call to shut the camp back up makes all the men sick to their stomach. Lipton looks over to Winters, who is as pale as he’s ever seen him but composed. The pair share a look, and Winters takes a minute before shouting for Liebgott. 

Marlarkey shakes his head, walking away as the prisoners start to wail. Lipton looks over to Winters, who is as pale as he’s ever seen him but composed. The pair share a look, and Winters takes a minute to compose himself before asking Liebgott to translate the orders. The usually calm and reassured officer is clearly shaken, although he has a good hold on his emotions, clearly feeling awful asking Joe to tell the prisoners the care needs to be stopped. There is no-one else, and it’s the surgeon’s order but no-one feels good about the change. They all want to feel useful. They don’t just want to stop. Lipton watches helpless as he sees Lieb breakdown after the orders have been given – feeling relieved to see Webster reach out a comforting hand as the man sits and sobs. He’s relieved even further to see Nix do the same to Winters, uncharacteristically open in the support he is offering. The pair usually have a much more muted, display of support. It is really a testament to how shaken they all are. Lipton is so caught up in his own thoughts that he startles when he hears a calm, voice.   
“We’re getting ready to head out to help deliver medical supplies.” He jumps a little and turns around to face Speirs. 

“Sir” Lipton nods, noting the concern in the XO’s usually passive face. He brushes his arm past the taller man’s as he turns to get the men – a gesture of thanks for letting him see his concern for him, for the men, for the prisoners who they are seeing. 

Speirs nods back and exhales, allowing his mask to slip slightly before he goes back to work. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Lipton keeps his head down and focused as he helps lift medical supplies off the truck. Regiment has let them have several hours before they move off the line and they are to help in anyway possible in giving aid. The first lieutenant spots Doc Roe in deep discussion with the regimental surgeon and sighs. The medic still looks exhausted, even though he gets more rest now then he has done in well, years. There’ll be a lot of work for the medical staff, and the thought of what they might have to , see makes Lipton’s hands want to shake. He wishes Eugene could have more of a break, he can’t remember he ever saw the man still, without a job to do. As if aware of the eyes on him he looks up and offers a nod, no smile – this isn’t the time or place to be smiling. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

THE NEXT DAY

Liebgott is still quiet, but less shut down then he was yesterday, even managing to tease Webster over breakfast. It eases the older mans mind a little but the atmosphere is still one of subdued in the Easy Camp. It’s days like today where Lipton misses those men they’ve lost along the way the most – Muck, Penkala, Bill and Toye – men who would never fail to lift morale. It’s harder for him to be that loud voice in the ground, sure he can offer a kind or comforting word but he is aware he is not a character as such – not one too lift all of the men. 

As if knowing the brooding the man has gotten into Malarkey draws him into conversation, something about football, but it’s enough of a distraction that the first sergeant can forget about his own self appointed failings – one that so many would disagree with. 

Lipton looks around the canteen which’s former use was an old church hall trying to look for a certain dark-haired medic who is missing….

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Eugene’s hands are soothing as always as he checks over one of the prisoners. None of them are in good health, and it takes Eugene longer then he would like to categorise the ailments of all those who were held prisoner. It’s several things – 1. The lists are not short, 2. The sheer revulsion of the injuries he is seeing has him clenching his jaw, and spending time to be as careful and gentle as possible. He pushes down the lump in his throat and bites on his lip willing to stop his hands from shaking. He’s been at it for longer then he would care to admit – he was unable to sleep so he headed down to the aid station to try and help with the restocking of the medication, and the early deployment of medical staff to the camp. 

“Next” He mutters, itching for a cigarette. Instead he ignores the urge, and the dryness of his throat and focuses on the next prisoner. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“God I hate this place.” Bull mutters under his breath as the truck pulls up to the camp. Lipton puts a reassuring hand on Bull’s shoulder as he squeezes past. 

“C’mon boys we have a job to do” 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

“Everything ok?” Winters asks as he joins Welsh, Lipton and Spiers. 

“Just packing up for the day Sir” Speirs replies around the cigarette his smoking. 

“Boy’s are all getting settled on the truck” Welsh adds. 

“Ok, Let’s move out” Winter nods to them all. 

Lipton has a quick look around, and notices that once again a certain medic is missing.

“Sir? I’m going to find Doc, maybe come for us in an hour?” Lipton suggests, spotting the still far too long line that was outside the make-shift medical centre. It’s once again a testament to the bond they all have that Speirs follows the blonde mans gaze and nods – completely understanding his friend’s line of thought. Let the Doc have longer to help, hell he’s earned it.

XXXXXXXXXXX

Lipton finds there is plenty of work to do around the makeshift centre, he moves supplies around despite how tired he feels both physically and mentally. The repetitive movement does help soothe his thoughts – the thoughts of what horrors all those in this camp have suffered through. Every so often he looks over to where Eugene is still diligently working, he wonders if the man has had anything to eat or drink today – he himself has been at the camp for almost 10 hours, and he guesses for Eugene it’s been a lot longer. He puts the last of the supplies on the shelf, and slowly walks over to the table. Eugene still has a patient sitting in front of him, and despite the sheer awfulness of the situation, as always Lipton marvels at the sheer gentleness of Eugene. He works in this field as if he was meant to his entire life – as if it was his calling. It’s hard to imagine that this man was just picked out to be a medic. Lipton waits patiently off to the side as he watches until Eugene is done, finishing with a gentle squeeze of the man’s hand before him. Before the next man can be called up the first sergeant steps up and sets his canteen down in front of him with a spare ration bar. 

“Eat, Drink for 5.” He instructs internally grimacing at how pale the Cajun is – he is normally pale but the day’s work is clearly taking a toll. “You’re no good to them if you don’t look out for yourself first.”   
Eugene looks at him for a second, clearly hesitating, torn between his own needs and those who so desperately needs his care. He nods and unscrews taking a mouthful of water. Realising the medic doesn’t want an audience Lipton nods and heads back to make himself useful. 

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Eugene doesn’t know how long he’s been there until the last man has been treat but he knows he should have stopped sooner. Despite the ration bar Lip gave him, he couldn’t bear himself to eat it – instead he slipped it into his pocket. His heart ached to give it to one of the men he was treating but he knew he couldn’t it was too much of a risk to their health. 

He reaches out for the canteen in front of him, vaguely aware that his hands are shaking. He feels mentally and physically exhausted. 

“Doc?” Lipton’s quiet voice is behind him. 

“Hey Lip,” Lipton smiles softly, clearly the man is exhausted if the slip of the nickname is anything.

“We done? Speirs has a truck for us” Lipton is already shouldering the medic’s bag. 

“Yeah” Eugene’s voice cracks with sheer fatigue, rubbing his eyes wearily with one hand. 

“Let’s get you to your bed,” Lipton smiles. Eugene nods and takes a deep breath, and stands grimacing as he is hit with a wave of dizziness. 

“Ok Doc, I got you” Lipton reassures him, grabbing his arm to steady him. 

“Sorry” Eugene mumbles, “M’ok.” 

“Sure you are” Before Lipton can say anything the deep voice of the their XO cuts across the conversation. Both men turn to the direction the voice came in. “Let’s go get some rest” He sighs – the order implied. 

Lipton smirks at the medic, who otherwise would’ve likely resisted despite how exhausted he clearly he is. Eugene smirks back and lets Lipton help him to the truck. Admittedly the first sergeant carried most of the taller man’s weight as they walk the 100m back to the truck. For Eugene it feels like Curahee all over again. Flashes of the men he has treated today flash through his mind but he tries to keep focused on Lipton’s every steadying presence - in all sense of the meaning.

“You still with me Doc?” Lipton asks as they near the truck. Eugene is a silent as ever. 

“Yeah” Eugene breathes out. Spiers is waiting, looking as blank as ever but Lipton knows him well enough to see the tension in his body – from the day, from the war, from the concern of watching his first sergeant practically carrying his medic out of Landsberg because he has worked himself to this point. 

This place, this war. 

XXXXXXXXXXX

Despite sleeping longer then he had done for a long time, Eugene still feels tired when he wakes the next morning. His eyes feel gritty and limbs heavy but he is wide awake, and lying in bed just makes him thing of skeletal hands, snow being painted red, of numbers inked on skin. So gets up and tries to make himself useful by looking through the aid station supplies. 

On his way he spots Liebgott, sitting smoking quietly. He is sitting on the step to the bunks he and some of the men in 2nd platoon have been sleeping in. The brunette looks exhausted and still clearly shaken from the days before. Eugene can’t just walk past him to his suffering, he has to try and help him.

“Morning Joe,” Eugene takes a minute to sit beside the man.

“Morning Doc, you sleep ok?” Liebgott asks, offering him a smoke, in times gone past the medic would’ve said no, but they aren’t there right now, so he takes him up in the offer. 

Eugene just shrugs as he busies himself with lighting his cigarette, “You?” 

Liebgott snorts and takes a drag.

“You did what you had to Joe, those men they’re going to be ok because of the advice you gave. They’ve been fed, and the regiment are working out how best to get them healthy and in the world again. That’s partly down to us, down to you.” It’s the most Liebgott has probably heard the man speak in one go for a long time, for a really long time. He’s taken back really, but he sits and tries to think about it all. 

“Wow Doc, when you speak, you really speak huh?” Liebgott smirks after a while.

Eugene huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes. 

“Keep yourself out of trouble” He states, walking off to the aid station – because his job really is a calling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope that was worth the wait

**Author's Note:**

> I started with Bastogne because its so Eugene centric but I will try and do one for each episode...I have some already written.  
> Let me know what you guys think!


End file.
